


Children of Earth

by elbowbaggins



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25458430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowbaggins/pseuds/elbowbaggins
Summary: High King Eliot has ruled Fillory on his own since he was eleven. He's survived assassination attempts, Beast attacks, and getting The Talk from Tick Pickwick.If these puffed-up invaders from some magic college think they're taking his throne, they're in for the fight of their lives.
Relationships: Fen & Eliot Waugh, Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 23
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

Eliot wraps his arms tightly around his knees, ducks his face against the rough material of his jeans, and tries not to breathe. He’s trembling, but at least he’s not alone; the house shudders in solidarity with every thundering step upstairs.

I’m going to die, he thinks. Robbie was out with his girlfriend and Mom was… not here any more. There’s no one here to tell him to stop. He’s not going to stop, he’s going to keep going and going until I’m dead, why was I so _stupid_ -

A door nearby slams open, and Eliot suppresses a terrified sob. He holds his hand over his nose and mouth, trying to keep from making any sound. Dad’s not yelling. Yelling means he wants to hit something. When he goes quiet, it means he wants to _break_ something. Eliot backs further into the corner of the storage cupboard where he’s hiding. Hiding doesn’t help, he knows. It only makes him madder. If he weren’t a coward, if he weren’t a sissy, if he wasn’t every horrible thing Dad’s ever called him…

There’s something pressing into his back.

Slowly, silently, Eliot presses his hand against the back of the cupboard. There’s some kind of metal knob that he swears wasn’t there before.

He glances toward the door leading out, just as the sound of stomping boots reaches the kitchen. He looks behind him, at the new door. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but he hinges don’t feel rusted when he touches them. If they squeak, if it makes any noise, Dad’s going to kill him. But if the door is quiet enough, he can hide in this inner cubbyhole until Dad passes out. He’ll still be angry tomorrow, but he won’t be the quiet angry. Maybe it’s worth a shot.

He can hear the pantry doors bounce against the wall as Dad throws them open. He can hear cupboards being thrown open, moving closer. He takes a deep breath and turns the knob.

Eliot lands on his ass in what appears to be the middle of a road. He looks around blankly at the packed earth beneath him, the trees on either side of the empty thoroughfare. The wooden signpost a few feet away. He stands up, wiping his dirty hands on his flannel shirt, and walks toward it.

Whitespire, it says. He’s never heard of it. But then, he thinks, looking up and seeing nothing but arching branches and a thick layer of leaves, he’s pretty sure he’s not in Indiana any more.

He’s probably dreaming. Dad probably knocked him into a coma and now he’s stuck in his mind, which is a forest for some reason. Maybe being in a coma isn’t too bad, if it means he gets to live in a brain forest instead of on a farm. There are definitely worse places to be. He’s so engrossed in this thought, he doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him.

When the tap on his shoulder comes, he flinches and immediately crouches down. Curls around himself and waits for the blows to start.

“Um, hello?” It’s a girl’s voice.

Eliot looks up warily. The girl behind him is skinny, a little younger than him by the looks of it. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a low ponytail that does nothing to hide the fact that it’s a tangled mess. She’s wearing a patched, rough-looking dress, thick sturdy boots, and has what looks like a dagger hanging from the leather belt around her waist.

“Hi?” he manages.

The girl looks him up and down, seemingly inspecting him for something. He stands up, but can’t seem to do anything about his hunched posture. The girl circles around him, and he self-consciously pulls at the bottom of his shirt. He knows he’s been gaining weight recently. Taylor says his brother did too, right before he grew a lot taller, but Eliot’s pretty sure he just said it to be nice. The girl finally stops her orbit in front of him, and a huge grin splits her dirt-streaked face.

“You’re a child of Earth!” she exclaims, and holds out a hand. “My name’s Fen, and I’m gonna be a knife maker! When you’re the king, can I come to the castle? Oh, I bet there’s not a royal knife maker already. Maybe I can be one, I’ve always wanted to see Whitespire!”

Eliot cautiously takes her hand, which she immediately begins shaking violently. “Um, I think there’s some kind of mistake? My name’s Eliot, and I’m not the king of anything. I’m not even really sure where I am, or how I got here, so-”

“Oh, that’s okay!” Fen finally stops flailing his arm up and down and lets him go. “Ember must have just called you here, so it’s a good thing I found you before the Beast did! You’re from Earth, so that means you’re gonna be the high king and defeat the Beast and bring peace to Fillory! Oh, that’s where we are, by the way. This is the kingdom of Fillory! Come on, my house is just over this way. My daddy knows all about it, and he can take us up to the castle on his cart.”

“I can’t be a king of anything, I’m eleven,” Eliot protests, but Fen has already grabbed his hand again and is pulling him down the road. He contemplates planting his feet, refusing to go with her. He’s not sure where else he would go.

Fen suddenly freezes and turns around, and Eliot startles. “Oh, no, I just realized! If you didn’t know Ember was going to call you, you must not have got to say goodbye to your family! Oh, I bet you miss home something terrible.” Before he can respond, she’s pulled him into a tight hug. “It’s okay, Eliot, I promise I won’t let you be lonely.”

He’s not sure what to say to that. Honestly, he’s not even sure he can speak right now. He looks up again at the verdant canopy above him.

Worse places to be, he thinks, and lets himself be dragged away by Fen.

\---

High King Eliot drains his goblet, and presses his forehead against the railing keeping him from plummeting off his balcony. His long legs dangle from between the bars, and he idly thinks about flicking his shoe off and watching it tumble to the ground below. He decides against it. He likes these shoes.

Behind him, he hears the quick footsteps that precede Tick’s arrival. He sighs, and pulls his legs back up onto the stone, rising as gracefully as he can manage before his advisors show up. He knows they won’t say anything to his face, but that doesn’t mean he wants them to see him struggling with these fucking _grasshopper legs_.

Tick Pickwick slides into the parlor, followed by the rest of the royal entourage. As Eliot leaves the balcony, he glances to the left; Fen is still leaning against the wall, idly polishing one of her knives. She rolls her eyes in Tick’s direction, and he makes a quiet gagging noise before schooling his face into one that he hopes conveys leadership. She giggles.

Fen has been indispensable these past fourteen years, not only as his personal bodyguard but as a friend and confidant. After ascending the throne, he’s been surrounded by nothing but kiss-asses. Fen, thank the gods, never looks at him and sees a High King. To her, he’s only ever been her friend Eliot. Well, excepting of course that awkward, hormone-driven few months in their teenage years when he was her boyfriend Eliot, but luckily they came to their senses about that whole thing pretty quickly.

“Your Highness,” Tick begins, bowing before assuming his optimal simpering position. “Begging your pardon for interrupting the Royal Me Time, but an urgent matter has arisen which requires your immediate attention.”

Eliot’s brow furrows. “The Beast again? What is he doing now? We just renewed the wards around the villages, if he’s broken through again -”

“The Beast is currently, ah, lying low.” Tick shuffles from foot to foot.

“Well, spit it out, then.” Eliot has already begun to relax. If it’s not Beast-related, it can’t be that urgent. Recently, almost all of his resources – let alone his energy – have been going toward keeping the Beast from gaining more ground than he already has. Luckily, something elsewhere seems to have drawn his attention for the moment, but gods only know how long that will last.

“It’s simply the small matter of. Um. Our scouts in the Southern Orchard have reported a small band of. Possible invaders.” Tick winces, somehow managing to look guilty at having to bring the news.

“Invaders?” He sinks into one of the many plush armchairs that dot the room and strokes his chin. “From Loria, no doubt.”

“Er, no, Your Highness. From their descriptions, they seem to be from… Earth.”

Eliot freezes. “No children of Earth have been summoned to Fillory for fourteen years.”

Abigail raises a clawed hand, and Rafe jumps forward to translate her wheezy squeaking. “Her Slowness advises that these usurpers be dealt with before they arrive at the castle. May she suggest, that they be nailed by their ears to trees, to be used as target practice for the royal guard?”

“That seems like overkill,” Fen pipes up, “How many of them are there?”

“Six,” Tick replies, but Eliot barely hears him over the roaring in his ears.

He thinks back over his last audience with Ember. He hadn’t _seemed_ displeased at the time, but who could tell with that old goat. There would be no reason to summon anyone else if he weren’t somehow dissatisfied with the current administration. Eliot was by no means an expert in Fillorian history, but he knew what happens to children of Earth that the gods deemed unnecessary.

They get sent Back.

He pulls himself back from that train of thought before the panic sets in. Put on your king face, he thinks, and sits up straighter.

“I agree with Abigail, that this is a situation to be dealt with sooner rather than later. However, I will allow them the opportunity to leave of their own free will before I resort to violence.” The sloth in question bobs her head deferentially. “Have mine and Fen’s horses readied, and rally as many guards as can be spared. We ride within the hour for the Southern Orchard.”

As his advisors bow and leave the room, Fen steps forward and places her hand on his shoulder. “This throne, this _kingdom_ , is yours, Eliot. I won’t let them take it from you.”

He doesn’t answer, but clasps her hand in his. Wills himself to stop trembling.

I am not that boy, he tells himself. I am a High King. I have ruled this kingdom on my own for years. I have held at bay the Beast that killed countless royals before me. I am powerful here.

And I am _never_ going back.

No longer shaking, he rises and strides toward the stables.


	2. Chapter 2

Quentin might be about to vibrate right out of his skin. If not for Penny’s grumbling behind him, he’s pretty sure he’d be skipping.

And, yeah, obviously there’s still the Beast, that’s pretty bad, they need to deal with that. That’s why they’re here. That’s why they’re in Fillory. They’re in _fucking Fillory, oh my god._ They’re on their way to _Castle Whitespire._

He turns to Julia, walking beside him, and is pleased to note she can’t seem to keep the grin off her face either. Margo is a little more composed, but he knows her well enough to tell she’s feeling the awesomeness too. Alice doesn’t have the same kind of wonder on her face, but even she seems fascinated by everything around them. Penny is unimpressed, but what else is new. Nothing makes Penny happy. Penny doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Fuck Penny.

“Alright, amigos,” Josh spins around to address the group, continuing to walk backwards through the orchard. “We should be nearing the end of the orchard soon. Now, I didn’t actually make it _to_ the castle when I was here, but once we clear the trees we should be able to see it.”

“Great, these shoes were definitely not made for long-distance hikes,” Margo groans.

Alice rolls her eyes. “You knew we were coming to Fillory today, Margo, why didn’t you wear more practical shoes?”

“You’re right, I should have worn those hiking boots that I definitely have. You’re so smart, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Five minutes,” Penny grouses, “Five goddamn minutes of silence, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Alice opens her mouth to retort, but Julia puts up a hand. “No, wait, actually be quiet. Do you hear that?”

The group stops, and quiets for a moment. Quentin doesn’t hear anything, until -

“Horses?” Alice looks around, trying to discern a direction.

“A shit ton of horses, by the sound of it,” Penny says, before blinking away abruptly. He’s back in a few moments. “Yeah, definitely a shit ton. I saw them from up a tree, they’re headed this way. I think they’re from the castle.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?” Quentin asks. “I mean, we’re going to the castle to try and coordinate with whoever’s in charge. If they come to us, maybe they can give us a ride the rest of the way.”

“Or maybe they can put our heads on pikes, as a warning to others,” Margo points out.

“They wouldn’t do that, we haven’t done anything wrong. We’re Children of Earth, they’re supposed to be, like, super happy that we’re here to save them.”

“We’re about to find out.” Josh has somehow moved to the back of the group now. They all edge a little closer together, as the first horses come into view down the path.

Leading the charge is a serious-looking young woman with brown hair. She raises a hand, and the mounted soldiers behind her slow and come to a stop, a few yards away from the Brakebills students. She takes a moment to assess them, before sitting up straight and drawing an unnecessarily intimidating dagger.

“By order of the High King,” her voice rings out clearly, “You will identify yourselves and state your business in the kingdom of Fillory.”

High King? Quentin’s brow furrows a bit more. He’d kind of been under the impression that he, or one of them, not specifically him, but probably him, would be the High King. Before he can say anything, Margo pushes past him and approaches the soldiers.

“We’re the heroes who are gonna save your whimsical asses, is who we are. We are master magicians, and we have come from Earth to destroy the Beast, since your High King apparently can’t.”

“Margo,” Quentin starts, but the damage has already been done. The woman on the horse sighs, and looks up, at something on the other side of the group of students.

“Your Highness?” she asks, and the group turns to look behind them. They’ve been completely surrounded. Directly at their back is a huge white horse, who seems to be glaring at them. Seated on his back is one of the most handsome men that Quentin has ever seen, wearing a matching glare. The man is tall, and would stand out as royalty even without the heavily jeweled crown on his head. Dark curls frame the elegant lines of his face, and his ornate clothing wraps tightly around his slender limbs.

Julia shoots him a look, and briefly wiggles her eyebrow, because she is the worst. Quentin silently curses himself for being predictable. Like it’s his fault he has a type.

Margo takes a step back, momentarily surprised, but quickly regains her composure to address the apparent High King. “Yeah, that’s right. If you didn’t completely suck at your job, we never would have gotten dragged into this shitshow. This Beast has been fucking us over for months now, _Your Highness_ , so we’re here to clean up your mess. I’ll accept your apology now.”

“What she means,” Julia interjects, stepping forward, “is that we are here to offer our assistance with defeating the Beast. He is a danger to us and our world as much as to yours, and it is in our best interest to work together to-”

The king cuts her off with a harsh laugh. “You’re here to help us?” Quentin starts; he wasn’t really expecting that accent. He sounds kind of… Midwestern? “Fillory has been dealing with this monster for generations. I have held the Beast at bay myself for years. And now he’s had his eye on you for _months_ , and you’re going to come here and defeat him on your first try.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” Margo crosses her arms. “And if you’d get off your high horse for a minute – metaphorically speaking – and admit you can’t handle things on your own, we could get the ball rolling on that a lot quicker.”

“It _is_ a beautiful horse,” Alice says quietly to Quentin.

“Thank you,” the horse says brightly, before catching the King’s eye and turning to glare at Margo again.

Quentin steps forward, sensing this may be their last shot at smoothing things over. “Look, Your Highness? Um, hi. I think maybe we haven’t made the best first impression, but we really do just want to help. We all want the same thing here, right? With your experience at holding off the Beast, and our, uh, magical expertise, I really think we have a shot at this.”

The King doesn’t reply, so Quentin powers on. “And, like, you’re from Earth too, right? Once the Beast is dead, you might be able to go home again -”

He immediately senses that he’s made a wrong move. The King’s face hardens, and he glances over their heads and nods. Penny vanishes, as Quentin turns to see the woman with the knife sigh heavily, and at her signal all of the soldiers surrounding them raise their weapons.

“You,” she intones, while idly spinning her knife, “are all under arrest.”

\---

“Oh my god, Quentin, just _go_.”

“Margo, you yelling at him isn’t going to make him go any faster!”

“Well it can’t possibly make him go any slower!”

Quentin grits his teeth and closes his eyes. Tries to tune out the argument behind him. Focuses completely at the task at hand. Is abruptly pulled from his concentration by Josh’s encouraging clap to the shoulder.

“It’s cool, dude, lots of people are pee-shy.”

“Try thinking about waterfalls,” Alice pipes up from the cot behind him.

Quentin groans and looks over his shoulder. “You know, all this fucking, like, _heckling_ is not helping. I want this to be over just as much as you guys, so like. Maybe let’s not make this any weirder.”

Their cell is probably only meant to hold one, maybe two prisoners. A single cot, seemingly stuffed with straw, and the chamber pot at Quentin’s feet are the only amenities provided. Alice and Julia are perched on the cot, Josh is leaning on a nearby wall, and Margo stops her pacing to whirl around, pointing an accusing finger at Quentin.

“Oh, let’s not make this _weirder?_ You’re the one fucking Blair Witching it in the corner with your _dick in your hand_ -”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t know we were about to get arrested, or I would have gone in the woods!”

“Guys?” Julia nods toward the bars that look out into the hallway. The woman from before, the stabbity one, is watching them with an amused smile on her face.

It is of course then that Quentin’s bladder decides to give up the ghost, because why the hell wouldn’t his body betray him at every possible opportunity.

The woman raises an eyebrow. “I can come back later, if this is a bad time?”

Margo seems about to stride forward, but Julia stands and replies first. “Now is fine. Please, if we could just speak with your king, we want to apologize for earlier. We need to act against the Beast as quickly as possible.”

“The High King is currently trying to talk himself into having all of you executed.” She drags a chair over from a nearby guard station, and sits primly on it. “He won’t, of course. He hasn’t executed anyone since he took the throne. But this is the longest I’ve ever seen him consider it.”

“No.” Alice stands up, hands on her hips. “I will not be executed because Margo can’t not be a bitch for two minutes.”

Quentin winces as he surreptitiously wipes his hands on his jeans. He’s not sure who to defend in this situation. Alice kind of has a point, but. Margo was the first friend he made after learning magic was real. She showed him around campus, helped him with his homework, stayed up nerding out with him until the sun rose. Stuck with him through his dark moods, even when Julia was too caught up in magic to notice anything was wrong. He knows she’s good, even if she always has to be the one to strike first.

“If you’re trying to insult me, you’re gonna need to come up with a lot better than ‘bitch,’” Margo says primly, before turning to the woman on the other side of the bars. “And you are?”

“Fen. I’m High King Eliot’s bodyguard. Which is why I’m inclined to agree with all of you.” She rises, and produces a ring of keys from some hidden pocket. “Right now, he’s working himself into a frenzy over you, but the biggest threat to him is and always has been the Beast. We’ve been holding him back, but we can’t defeat him. I’m willing to risk trusting you if it means having a shot at actually ending this.”

“See, this is why women need to be in charge.” Margo gestures in Fen’s direction. Josh hums and nods in agreement.

“Okay, so what are you proposing?” Julia asks.

Fen smiles. “Eliot is my High King, but he’s also my friend. If I tell him to give you another chance, he’ll grumble about it, but he’ll listen. I’ll get you out of this cell, but in return, I want your word that once the Beast is dead, you will leave Fillory and never come back.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your support! I'm having a lot of fun writing this, so I hope ya'll are having fun reading it!
> 
> Feel free to come find me at unidentified-disaster-bastard.tumblr.com for more word vomit, my feelings for literally every character on this show are bottomless

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god, I did it. I started writing again. I haven't written in yonks, what did this show do to me.
> 
> No idea how long this is going to end up being, but I hope y'all enjoy the ride!


End file.
